Sick Day
by Sandy87
Summary: Ratchet's come down with a bit of a stomach virus (who else thinks the planet Tyhrranosis sounds like a disease? XD), and we all know who's around. A short "missing scene" fic. Pure fluff.


I'd toyed with this idea for quite a while but just now got around to writing something on it. There seems to be a few missing bits to the UYA storyline. And ya know what my muse calls those missing bits? Fanfic fodder!

Ratchet, Clank, Sasha, Skidd, Qwark, Helga, Al, Planet Daxx, and the Starship Phoenix all belong to Insomniac Games. I'm not making any money, just writing silly fics.

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Ratchet opened his eyes. His quarters were dark. Even the big screen he'd left on the night before while replaying a vidcomic was turned off, presumably by Clank. But he was glad of the dark. His stomach hurt, and a throbbing pain behind his eyes told him any sort of light was out of the question. '_I can't be getting sic_k,' he thought to himself. '_We're supposed to arive at planet Daxx in two days...Well, maybe if I get some water..._ '

Ratchet stood up shakily, holding his stomach. He swore the thing kicked him. "Now I know how a pregnant lady feels," he muttered, then tried to smirk at his joke. No such luck; his stomach lurched again, hard enough to knock any humor out of the situation. He staggered to the bathroom, supporting himself with the wall. He didn't turn the light on, but even in the dark he could see he didn't look good. He turned on the faucet and cupped some water in his hands.

The water was cold and felt good on his tongue. He splashed a bit on his face, plastering his fur down with the moisture. His stomach heaved again. He felt like he was going to...yup, right in the sink. "Gross..." he mumbled, rinsing the sink and his mouth. "Today is not a good day." He shook his head and staggered back to one of the couches in his room. He curled up in a ball and fell back asleep.

Sasha glanced around the mess hall one more time and poked at the food on her plate. "Helga, what did you say this was?"

"_Fladle uberbacken_!" she replied proudly.

"Right, it is." Sasha poked the food again. It resembled pancakes, but not. "Looks greasy. I think I'll pass."

"Pah! Skinny girl like you needs fattening up! Buuuut...eef you do not vant eet, hand eet over!" She pushed the plate across the table and turned her head slightly when the robot began to eat piggishly.

"I wonder where Ratchet is this morning?" Sasha asked, glancing at the empty seat beside her. "It's not like him to miss breakfast."

"I dunno. Maybe the little furry dude's catchin' some extra Zs this morning. He's got the right idea." Skidd yawned and stuffed another bite of the pancake-like breakfast in his mouth.

"Maybe he is," Sasha mused, standing up. "Just the same, I think I'll get some juice and check on him anyway." She grabbed a small carton of juice from one of the refridgerators and walked out of the galley.

"What's eating her this morning?" Skidd asked when he was certain she was out of hearing.

"Love bugs," Helga replied smugly.

"I'm sorry, dea - er, Helga, but I do not beleive that species preys on mammals." Al squirmed nervously in his seat; correcting Helga could be dangerous.

"Not zat kind of love bug! I mean ze other kind!"

"Ohh, I get it." Qwark arched his eyebrows and elbowed the fitness trainer. "You mean she and the lombax are a little hot under the collar around each other, hmm...?"

"No, I mean she 'as a vee beet of a crush on Ratchet!" Qwark blinked in surprise. Hadn't he just said...? No, he must have said something else. A general chorus of "Oh!" went around the table. Except for Skidd, who was still yawning and shovelling food in his mouth. His came out more like, "Omph!" accompanied by a spray of crumbs.

"Ratchet? You in there? It's nearly oh-eight-hundred..." Sasha stood in the doorway and peered in to the dark room. "Phoenix, lights on." The overhead lights flickered on in response to her voice, and a pained moan rose from the couch. "Oops, er, lights off."

"Ratchet does not feel well this morning, Captain Sasha," Clank said, walking up to her. "He complains of photosensitivity and regurgitates hydrochloric acid and food mictures."

"Er, yeah..." She walked over to the couch and leaned over the back of it, looking at Ratchet. He wasn't wearing his normal armor, but rather a set of old cargo pants that she assumed he slept in. She'd never seen him before breakfast. He was curled in a ball; a trashcan sat on the floor not far from his head. "You don't look so good." Ratchet looked up at her. His stomach churned again and he winced. "Take the day off today, Ratchet. Get some rest. I'll come back during my lunch break and see if you feel any better." She turned quickly and left.

Everyone turned to look at her when she entered the bridge. "Ratchet's sick. He's staying in his quarters today." They nodded and turned back to their consoles. The morning was uneventful.

A few minutes before lunchtime, Sasha left hurriedly to the caffeteria. The rest of the bridge crew smirked to one another. She quickly grabbed a few slices of bread and threw together a sandwich, then punched a few buttons on the automated tea brewer. She tapped her foot impatiently, then hurriedly collected her cups and sandwhich.

When she reached his quarters, Ratchet was still laying on the couch, curled in to a ball in the dark just as she'd left him. "Have you moved an inch all day?" she asked, her tone somewhere between disbelief and worry.

He opened his eyes. They focussed a bit better now; they didn't seem to be looking through her as they had that morning. "I had to move twice," he said. He gestured to the trashcan. "You can guess why." He closed his eyes again.

Sasha made a face. She _really_ hoped Clank had thought to change the liner in that can... "Here, I made you some tea. It might settle your stomach a bit."

Ratchet sat up, slowly, and took the cup she offered him. He looked at the reddish-brown brew in the cup doubtingly. He sniffed it. "What is it?"

"Peppermint tea. My mom used to make it for me when I got a stomach ache as a little girl." She sat down on the couch beside him and took a bite of her sandwhich before continuing. "I didn't figure you'd want anything else, but if you'd like I'll go get something."

"No, no, that's alright." He shook his head vehemiently, then winced as his headache came back. He leaned back against the couch and took a sip of the tea. It was decidedly minty; the strong liquid produced as much of a smell in the back of his mouth as it did in his nose.

They sat quietly for a long time, neither one quite sure of what to say to the other. So long as they had food and drink, that was fine; the silence was not awkward then. But with Sasha's idea of lunch being so light and Ratchet not eating at all, they soon found themselves in quite the predicament.

"That tea - I think it helped," Ratchet said after a while. His stomach had been feeling a little better before he'd drank it, too, but he figured that since she'd been nice enough to bring him something, he ought to at least _look_ appreciative. Besides, in some small way, it did seem to have helped; he didn't feel quite the gnawing pain.

"That's good." Sasha glanced around the room, trying to find a new topic as if one lived on the walls or ceiling. "You...want to play something?" She gestured to the VG9000 she'd given him.

He nodded and picked up a controller. "Yeah, sure...but I warn you: I'm good."

Twenty minuted later, Ratchet found himself once again sitting in second place, Sasha mere inches ahead. He'd attempted to pass her several times, yet every time she kept her ship just in front of his. He tried again. '_One last time...I'll beat her this round!_' Only instead of merely preventing him from passing, she clipped his nose with her engines, sending him spiralling into a computer-controlled racer. The two of them flew into a passing asteroid as Sasha crossed the finish line.

"What was this about being 'good'?" she taunted.

"I...ah...um...I, I'm...I'm sick! My reactions are slow!" Ratchet scrambled for words, then clutched his stomach as a cramp seized it.

"Oh, just admit it: I'm a better racer than you." She laughed slightly and grinned at him. Ratchet frowned and glared at the wall, his ears pinned to his head. "Alright, fine. We'll have a rematch when you're feeling better."

"You're on!"

At that moment, Clank came in. "Captain Sasha? The rest of the crew is concerned for your presence. It is now thirteen-hundred hours."

"Thirteen-hundred!? Aw, man! Sorry, Ratchet, but I've really got to get back to the bridge; I'm already late." She hurried out quickly at something just under a light jog.

Ratchet turned to glare at Clank. "What did you do that for?"

"What did I do?"

"We were in the middle of a game!"

"And from the score reccord, it appears you were being beaten heavily. Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee."

"That's not the point!"

"Oh? Then what is the point?"

"The point is...oh, never mind." Ratchet laid back down on the couch and rubbed his stomach. "Just go away Clank. I'm tired."

"All right. I will be outside if you need me."

Ratchet slept all afternoon. When he awoke that evening, his stomach didn't hurt quite so bad. He could sit up without it lurching and threatening to empty itself again. Perhaps that tea had helped more than he'd given it credit for. Or perhaps the virus was just wearing off.

He turned his controller over in his hands in boredom. He'd already beaten his vidcomics and he didn't have any other singleplayer games. Clank wasn't one for games in the first place, and as far as he knew, the rest of the Q-Force was still on duty. He sighed and continued to study the controller. He'd taken apart simpler models as a child, but with a system as new as the VG9000, he hadn't had a chance to get ahold of a controller to disassemble yet.

He was so engrossed in the study of the small device that he did not hear the doors to his quarters open, nor Sasha's footsteps as she walked up behind him. The pale tips of his ears stuck up above the back of the couch. She pinched one between her thumb and two fingers and tugged gently. "Uh, Ratchet?"

"Huh? Oh, hey Sasha." He smiled up at her.

"I guess you're feeling better. Think you can eat?"

"Yeah, I guess so." She left quickly and returned ten minutes later carrying some soup and more tea. "Thanks. I think I'm actually hungry. I wasn't hungry all day...weird." He shrugged and slurped a spoon of soup.

Sasha sipped on a bowl of her own. She watched Ratchet eat with the same gusto he normally had at meals; it was as if the food were still alive and would run away if he didn't get it swallowed quick enough. She smiled and giggled to herself.

"What's so funny?"

"You! You eat like an animal."

"And that's...funny?"

"Would you rather I be disgusted?"

Ratchet considered that. "No...go ahead and laugh. I like that sound better." He finished the last of his soup and stuck his muzzle in the bowl to lick it. "Good soup."

"Thank the Food-o-Matic," she laughed back. "Hey, mind if I play one of your vidcomics?"

"Go ahead."

They settled themselves on the couch. Sasha took the controller from him and began to play. She was almost as good as she was at racing, though she didn't quite know all the small tricks. Ratchet pointed out tokens she'd missed at first, but gradually became sleepier. He still wasn't fully recovered, though he did feel better. He slipped in to a light sleep leaning back on the couch.

Sasha was too busy with the game to notice that he'd become quiet. She even missed little snores that escaped his mouth. In fact, she probably would have ignored him completely had he not slid down the couch and ended up with his head on her arm just below her shoulder. She quickly hit the pause button. "Ratchet...? What are you _doing_?"

He didn't reply. He didn't even show that he'd heard her. She looked down at him. He couldn't stay there, obviously - he'd get a crick in his neck like no other. Besides, it wouldn't look right if someone walked in on the two of them - in the dark no less, as Ratchet hadn't said the light didn't bother his eyes - sitting so close and cuddly. Not that she minded...no! She _did_ mind! Very much!

She set the controller down and slipped her hand under Ratchet's head, then scooted out from under him. She slipped a pillow back under his head, then pulled her hand out slowly. She put her fingers up to her mouth in worry that he'd woken up, but his breathing remained regular. The scent of his fur was clinging to her gloves; she could smell it with her hand so close to her nose. The fur of his cheek had been ruffled when she'd pulled out her hand; she smoothed it as best she could without waking him.

She pulled back again, this time embarrassed with herself. It was her job to command the ship, nothing more, nothing less. Her personal feelings were to be completely separate from her work; they would cloud her judgement if she did not control them. And yet...she had no decisions to make at the moment. A small lapse in her reasoning would not hurt.

She knelt down in front of Ratchet and stared at his sleeping face. He was completely relaxed - his jaws were slacked open just a bit, his eyelids softly closed, his ears flopped gently against his head. His fur...it looked soft. '_Just this once,_' she warned herself. '_After this, you forget anything ever happened._' She reached her hand foreward again and placed her fingertip on the bridge of his nose. She couldn't feel his fur through her glove, of course, but she could see it move as she stroked it, see it bend and part and come back together.

Sasha smiled lightly; the slow movement of rubbing his nose was relaxing and trance-like. She had trouble keeping her eyes open. '_No, stay awake!_' she scolded, but she settled for closing her eyes and promising herself she'd stay alert. That didn't last long, though. Her head fell forward so that she was leaning on his arm, her cheek pressed against the gold fur. It was soft, but not as soft as the fur on his face looked. But he was warm and just muscular enough that his bones didn't poke her; as skinny as he was, it surprised her that he had any muscle at all. She smiled a bit more and sighed.

_Ratchet opened his eyes. He was lying on a beach somewhere...Pokitaru? Had the Phoenix crashed? Where was Sasha?_

_As in answer to his question, a weight on his arm suddenly shifted and looked up at him. He smiled. Sasha smiled back. She placed her fingertips on his nose and rubbed the fur there. He smiled broader and tried to squirm from pleasure, even just to lean forward into her hand more, but found that he couldn't move. But he didn't mind. So long as she continued to stroke his fur, he'd be content to be completely paralized. Instead of moving, he simply sighed and closed his eyes._

The warm sigh that escaped from Ratchet's mouth roused Sasha from her half-trance. She pulled herself away from his body heat and shook her head; she hadn't intended to come so close to falling asleep. She rubbed her eyes, but this brought her glove - which now smelled even more like lombax - up to her nose.

The sound of the doors opening got her full attention. She stood up, quickly. "Oh, Skidd. Hello."

"Woah, it's all like...dark in here. Very romantic. Am I interrupting something?"

"No, you're not. Ratchet's just fallen asleep, that's all. I was getting ready to leave anyway. Have to make my evening patrol of the ship before I turn in." She walked out, carefully avoiding his gaze lest he see the embarrassment in her face from his suggestion that he'd "interrupted" them. She knew her fur would hide any blushing, but there was more to embarrassment than a red face.

Not a moment after they had left, Ratchet woke up. "Man, what a crazy dream..." He could still feel the gentle sensation of Sasha's fingers on his muzzle, but he assumed it to be a holdover from his dream. She obviously wasn't there - he was laying on a pillow, and though her scent lingered in the upholstry, her body was physically absent - so it couldn't have been real. Besides, Sasha wasn't the type to show maudlin affection to just anyone. He shook his head, but smiled. Just because it wasn't real, didn't mean he couldn't dream.

The following morning, Sasha found herself feeling quite ill. Her stomach hurt worse than anything she experienced with PMS; these cramps gave "stomach demons" a new meaning. Her head hurt, too. She now understood why Ratchet had moaned about the light. She looked around quickly for a trash can. There! She staggered over to it and knelt down. She knew she'd need it soon...yep. Right on schedule.

About a half hour later, she was laying in her bed, trying to calm her stomach. The doors swung open and a familiar shadow filled the lower half of the doorway. "I thought you might be in here. Guess I get to return the favor for yesterday, huh?" Ratchet held up a glass of peppermint tea.

She smiled weakly. "Yeah, I guess so." He walked over and sat on the end of her bed and handed her the cup. She sipped it.

"Now, about that rematch..."


End file.
